


thinking, drinking, sinking feeling

by wildewoman_22



Category: Superstore (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 09:26:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9997511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildewoman_22/pseuds/wildewoman_22
Summary: "He was looking at her like a – like a puppy desperate to be acknowledged, and just for a second, Amy thought about it; about opening her mouth and letting it all spill out, ranting long and loud about how much everything sucked, how unsteady she felt. She was scared that if she did, she might not be able to stop."A little vignette set directly after the episode 'Ladies' Lunch.'





	

**Author's Note:**

> These two kill me. I wrote this before the latest episode where the Dina/Garrett secret was revealed.
> 
> Title is from the Slow Club song of the same name, and the italics at the end are from the episode 'Lost & Found'.

“Dammit!”

Amy clumsily bent over to pick up her car keys, hands waving around and grabbing at thin air. It was like the ground was too far away – or she was still drunk. Definitely still drunk, in the middle of the day – the sun hadn’t even started to set. Amy swore under her breath. She wanted to go home and pull the covers over her head and wait for the hangover; to pretend she was the kind of person who could just _do_ this sort of stuff whenever they wanted, nothing in the way.

The kind of person who always chopped off all their hair after a couple of shots.

“Need a hand?”

Amy turned her head to see Jonah’s stupid boat shoes. The brown leather was a bit scuffed at the toes; he’d been complaining all week that the breaking in period was lasting way longer than with his last pair ( _“Quality footwear is so worth it, Amy. You wouldn’t believe how many health benefits solid shoes have,”)_. Amy had practically rolled her eyes to the back of her head.

She straightened up with only a little wobbling and dangled the keys proudly at him.

“We’re all good here,” she said.

“Nice haircut.” Jonah waved his hand in a vague circle around her head, leaning forward on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah, big change. You want one? You could stand to be a little less… puffy up there,” Amy said, scrunching up her nose. He pretended like he didn’t try, but Amy knew for a fact that he had at least three different organic natural fair-trade _whatever_ hair products hidden in his locker at any given time.

Jonah grinned. “Quit school, quit work, open a salon specializing in drunk haircuts – that's living the dream.”

At the word ‘drunk’, Amy looked down at the car keys clutched in her hand. “Yeah, I probably shouldn’t be driving, bad idea,” she said. Jonah shook his head, trying not to laugh. She pulled out her phone and called a cab; she could maybe get Adam to drive her to work tomorrow.

“So, how exactly did this happen?” Jonah asked when she hung up. “I watched Dina try not to puke in front of a customer for like, five minutes.”

“Girls’ day out. Dina’s idea, actually… to talk about _feelings_ and bonding and all that crap. Possibly the greasiest bar I’ve ever been to in my life,” Amy said, leaning dramatically against the side of her car.

“I’m gonna need a visual.” Jonah crossed his arms, suddenly super interested.

“Oh, you’d love it - a real family friendly place. Warmest beer in St. Louis. Also, they didn’t even ID Cheyenne even though she’s like, clearly twelve,” Amy said, scoffing a little.

“You know, I’ve been searching for the perfect warm beer out here, so thanks for the tip,” he said. He set his bag on the ground and settled beside her against the car. Amy flicked her eyes over to him warily.

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting for your cab,” Jonah said.

“Oh.” A comfortable lull settled between them, the usual bustle of the parking lot buzzing in the background.

Suddenly, Jonah tensed, like he was steeling himself for something.

“Look – I know you don’t want to, and you don’t have to, but I’m just saying… I’m all ears,” he said quickly, practically tripping over his words. Amy closed her eyes. Shut up, shut up, shut up. _Not doing this._

“The option is there, if you wanted. Not that I’m trying to pry, or make you feel pressured, or - or like you _have_ to, or anything.”

He was getting all twitchy and worked up. He bumped into her side accidentally, his shoulder touching hers before pulling away. He was looking at her like a – like a puppy desperate to be acknowledged, and just for a second, Amy thought about it; about opening her mouth and letting it all spill out, ranting long and loud about how much everything sucked, how unsteady she felt. She was scared that if she did, she might not be able to stop.

“Dina told us she and Garrett slept together,” she said instead.

“Oh my God, wait, what? You’re joking. You’re not serious.” Jonah gaped at her, the need to get her to just _talk about it_ apparently forgotten.

“Totally serious.”

He tapped his fingers against his chin. “He’s been kind of weird lately. Did you get that vibe? I definitely got that vibe.”

He rambled on about how Garrett had asked Dina how her weekend was the other day and how that was strange because Garrett didn’t do small talk, like _ever,_ and how he was pretty sure that he’d caught him staring at her in the break room, and a bunch of other stuff that Amy wasn’t listening to because Jonah’s face was doing a million different things at once. He was like a cartoon character, eyes huge and round, hands flying all over the place, eyebrows jumping up and down.

The sun was starting to set, pale orange light washing over them both. It was casting weird shadows on his face that shifted whenever he moved around. Amy thought about earlier, how she’d gotten dizzy watching him stutter out a bunch of words that were probably supposed to be a sentence. She still had no idea what he’d been talking about. Something about winning sexually? For some reason, that part was lodged in her brain and wouldn’t go away.

(As she watched him now, eager and over-the-top like always, she kept hearing it, that stupid echo of his voice in her head.)

Amy realized with a start that he’d definitely stopped talking a second ago, and now they were just staring at each other. She looked at the ground, cheeks burning. 

“I’m so tired, Jonah,” she said, the words bubbling out before she could stop herself.

“Oh, um, I bet. You probably wanna sleep it off.”

“No,” she said softly. “No, it’s… everything, you know? It’s hard. I - I don't know what to do. I’m just – so tired.” Amy let out a long breath, eyes strictly on the pavement. Jonah was silent beside her. She didn’t dare look at him.

He shifted a little, their shoulders pressing together again. He was warm even through his jacket – she could feel it. This time neither of them moved away.

“Amy,” he said quietly, serious in a way she didn’t think he could get, “I know this is just what people say, but you should do what makes you happy.”

She felt her throat go tight for a second and swallowed desperately around it.

“That’s what people say,” Amy murmured. She glanced up at him finally - taking in the open honesty of his gaze, how much he completely  _meant_  it _-_ and suddenly wished she hadn't.

_So I want you to close your eyes and I’m gonna ask you a question, and I want you to say the first thing that pops into your mind._

“Your cab’s here,” he said softly, clearing his throat. Amy nodded sharply.

“See you tomorrow,” she said.

Jonah waved from the parking lot, tipping an imaginary hat to her as the cab pulled away. It was dorky, but she found herself smiling anyway.

 

* * *

 

Amy stood in front of her bathroom mirror, running her fingers through the jagged, uneven ends of her hair. She’d have to get it fixed tomorrow. She turned on the tap, dabbing cold water onto her face.

_I keep having this mental image of you doing that cliché where you get me to magically discover the one thing I never knew I wanted, so dumb._

She closed her eyes, willing herself to focus on the sound of water hitting the sink.

 

 


End file.
